Censored

While temporarily

Erudite,

Ephemerally,

A fool–and brave–

I spilled

Irrational

Irritation–

Black–

Upon the page.

But would Society

Stand for this?

A mirror, held,

To countenances

Tarred with evil,

Soiled, with self-

Aggrandizement?

Not long.

Now, fatuous,

Fatigued, and famished;

Calcified,

Like geologic layers,

Holding fossils,

That conceal an ancient tale;

Mired in mud;

A barbed-wire necklace

Draped around

My seizing frame;

Restrained:

I rage against

The taming forces,

Dull, mundane.

Is this the fate

Of all wild spirits?

Torture,

By a thousand cuts?

Until we crack,

In desperation;

Purchase, dear,

Our precious freedom;

Do their despicable bidding,

For them:

Gnawing loose

Our writing hands?

And so, un-armed,

And humbly harmless,

Muzzled,

Maimed,

In a sickening hush:

We consider it luck,

To escape with our lives,

And chastened,

Scurry off.

Copyright 2020 Andrea LeDew

For another poem about a writer, read The Writer.